


Because I Think It's My Fault

by Up_sideand_down



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII
Genre: M/M, Reincarnation, visions of the past
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-27
Updated: 2018-07-27
Packaged: 2019-06-17 09:37:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15458499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Up_sideand_down/pseuds/Up_sideand_down
Summary: A new wave of geostigma leaves some people "grey" and some of them have...certain other abilities.





	Because I Think It's My Fault

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SethSuffers](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SethSuffers/gifts).



> Thank you Sephykins for some wonderful prompts. I had a lot of fun with them. I tried to mush some of them together. I also have another that was partially inspired by Waifujuju's art, but I just couldn't get it done in time, so maybe it will pop up soon. I hope you enjoy this one!

He felt in his bag for his umbrella when it started to pour. He had lost it…again. He pulled up his hood instead. Gave him an excuse to cover his hair. 

If he was honest, he did like the rain. It made him feel…more innocent. Maybe like he had been forgiven. For what crime…he didn’t know. 

Vincent told him this feeling was normal.

“I feel it sometimes too,” he assured him, “I’m not sure what it means. Perhaps leftover empathy from the lifestream.” He tended to assure him about such things. It was how Vincent won him over after his father up and left. 

He lifted his head up and closed his eyes, letting some of the droplets fall into his hair. When wet his hair looked darker, almost black like Vincents. He could pretend Vincent was his dad. His mother assured him his hair was a lovely shade of brown up until he was two. 

“You looked like me,” she told him, almost wistfully, “it was like chocolate and so beautifully thick.” He had fallen ill. The doctor’s said it was called “geostigma”. It hadn’t occurred in nearly 500 years. There was a small outbreak around the time he was born. Around 20 children had died before a cure was manufactured, but the effects would never wear away. His hair had come out a light grey since then. He never knew of a time when it wasn’t like that. Plenty of people still stared though. The idea of the disease enough to scare them, even though he was no longer contagious. 

So when the rain made his hair dark he felt halfway normal and the strange guilt lifted off his shoulders. 

“Sef!” 

He didn’t turn at the voice. Part of him wished it would go away, leave him to his broodiness and whatever awful fate he had given it. 

That was not Zack’s way though. 

“You really need to remember your umbrella” Zack said, holding his own over both of their heads. The somber thought left, and Sef smiled at his best friend. 

“Or…any of your stuff for that matter,” Zack said, nudging him, “You’re soaked.”

“Good,” Sef said. 

“You want to catch a cold?” Zack challenged. 

“That is an old wives tale and nothing more,” Sef said. Zack shook his head at him, making the grey streak on his bang settle more naturally away from his eye. 

“What would you do without me,” Zack said, “walk, all alone, in the pouring rain, making yourself late for class no doubt.”

“Indeed,” Sef said. Zack laughed at him. 

“You’re lucky you got a grey like me to take care of you,” Zack said. 

“Truer words never spoken,” Sef replied. 

“Come on,” Zack said, “we’re Ph.D students, we can’t be late and expect to be forgiven.” Zack started to jog ahead, trying to force Sef to keep up with him. Sef’s decision to disagree made him run into someone else. 

He would have apologized, but his words caught in his throat. 

The other man stared back at him, his hands feeling hot on Sef’s soaked hoodie. His eyes, that looked like they should have been stern and serious, seemed surprised. His hair, from the top of his head, to his short beard were the same shade as Sef’s. 

But the more important thing was that Sef knew him…just not his name or who he was.

* * *

Vincent had been sedate, almost welcoming the first time he and Sef had met. Sef had known his mother was dating, just not sure who this fling was.

“Better than your father,” she always assured him. Sef hadn’t visited his father in five years at the time, and was happy to keep it that way. He wasn’t actually sure where his father was. Far away was most preferable. 

When said fling was introduced…Sef was a little worried. Vincent seemed…intimidating. Terribly so. But he had offered his hand to Sef and said he was beyond thrilled to finally meet him. 

Vincent’s expression never changed. Sef knew now that meant Vincent was completely sincere about it. He had been resistant to Vincent for a week. Then he loved him. 

Two years later when Vincent asked if Sef minded if he married his mother. 

“Do I have to call you Dad?” Sef asked. 

“No,” Vincent said. He honestly didn’t care. 

“Then I don’t mind,” Sef said. He didn’t want Vincent to change because he married his mother, but Vincent didn’t. Vincent usually didn’t. 

His mother said she liked that. They were too chaotic at times, but Vincent was usually a constant. When he wasn’t…Sef liked being there for him. 

“I hate being insane sometimes,” Vincent once told him, “Thinking about things that have already happened.”

Sef was relieved someone knew what he was talking about.

* * *

He could not focus in his class. His eyes were everywhere, trying so hard to remember where he knew the man from.

It had been years since he had seen something, one of the “visions” as Vincent called them. He did not want thing feeling to be another one. They always got worse if he focused on them. It made him feel like he was “wrong” or he started auditory hallucinations again. Doctors stated it could be a continued symptom of geostigma and it would go away if he ignored it. Sometimes it did, sometimes it didn’t. 

Vincent was the one who really helped, listened to what he saw and tried to work through what he was seeing. Once he knew…he didn’t focus on it and they went away. There was a story and it was over. 

The memories had never been a person before. 

He jerked when Zack nudged him. He looked up, realizing professor Lockhart was looking at him.

“Are you well Sef?” she aksed, her eyes concerned. He nodded. 

“I’m fine,” he said, “I’m sorry.”

“You can miss up to two classes,” she reminded him, “you are allowed to take them. I know the curriculum is rough.”

“I don’t need today,” Sef assured her. He genuinely liked her. Her class had soft whispers around it. At first they were intimidating, but after a semester in her class, it felt like home. He had even gone on the expedition to the twice buried city with her. She had called it “Kalm” mostly noting the serene landscape. 

She’d been the one to encourage him into archaeology. And he could focus on her lecture for one day instead of analyzing one strange, utterly silent encounter. 

* * *

Lucretia had always told her son he was special. To her, he was special because he survived. Complications in having Sef made sure a sibling would not be very wise…or potentially impossible. Then he came down with geostigma, one of just over a thousand cases in the world. She had been the one to put Sef through experimental treatments. One of the serums used on Sef would later be developed into a cure, and later a vaccine. Sef’s name, pseudonym really, was in medical journals the world over, because she would not let him go.

Then he survived his own father…and her rather nasty divorce. She tried to keep most of it away from Sef’s eyes and ears, but he knew. Sef’s father, who’s name was still banned in the household, played dirty. He fought for custody, not because he wanted it, but because he knew it would hurt Lucretia

At one point he had pulled Sef aside and told him that unless he said he wanted to live with daddy because mommy hurt him, he would never see daddy again. Sef had one word in reply.

“Good”

And Lucreita won her case. She tried to let the bastard see his son…but he lost interest. He had lost and he wanted to forget. After a few years he disappeared and she got to have Sef all to herself. 

She knew she had terrible taste in men. None of them really excited her. Only one, a small fling when she was younger, but they had gone to chase their own careers…and he had always looked down on hers. 

Vincent was the next one to really get her heart throbbing. People said he looked so broody and grumpy…like a lump. She loved it. Loved how soft he was with emotions, never one to let them overtake him. She only really saw it when Sef met him. The two were too similar…and it was a relief. Her son could pull away from her, and she let him, but he always had Vincent. 

After they got married people noticed Sef didn’t call Vincent “dad”. 

“Because he’s Vincent,” Sef said. Lucretia couldn’t have said it better herself. Why have a dad when you could have _Vincent._ It was way better. 

She smiled at him as he hung up his call with Sef. 

“How is he?” she asked. 

“Busy,” he replied, “Nothing he can’t handle. No loud voices asking to be released.”

“I like those voices,” she said. 

“And I really like this book,” Vincent replied, “Maybe later.”

“I’m gonna hold you to that.”

* * *

He saw that familiar face as he stepped out of the classroom. He felt it again, that strange longing, the lingering grief.

A hand on his shoulder shattered it once more.

“You okay?” Zack asked. Sef nodded, looking back. The man was gone again. He sighed and turned back to Zack, going back to plans for the weekend. 

Then a tap was on his shoulder. 

He was there. They man from before. Sef could hardly breathe. 

“Excuse me,” he said, “This might sound strange, but…could I get you a coffee or something?” Sef swallowed thickly. He’d had this conversation before, with this exact same person he was sure of it. Zack nudged him. 

“I understand if it’s awkward,” he said, “it’s just-“

“Okay,” Sef said as Zack tugged gently on a strand of his hair. Zack patted him gently. 

“I’ll see you later,” Zack said, with a little wink. 

“Oh,” the man said, “I was expecting a no, it’s just that-“

“You…feel it too?” Sef asked. 

“Feel?” the man replied cocking his head slightly. 

“Like we’ve been here before,” Sef said, “having this conversation.” The man visibly relaxed. 

“Oh thank the stars,” he said, “I was going to make myself sound crazy.”

“But…I like coffee anyway,” Sef said. The man smiled and it made those strange feelings twist into something he hadn’t really felt before. 

“I’m Angeal,” he said. 

“Most people call me Sef, you can too.”

* * *

Angeal had the same dream for a month straight. After that month it turned into a nightmare. It started with the strangest forest he had ever seen. The trees curved, some of them knitted in intricate patterns over each other. He never really did much, just walked through the trees and once or twice climbed them. They had strange purple fruits, almost like apples.

Then the nightmare came and changed it. The entire forest was on fire. There was nothing he could do. 

The fifth night Angeal had the nightmare, his father pulled him aside and asked him what his dreams were about. Angeal explained quite dutifully. 

Two days later his father brought a book from the museum. One picture was of the trees he saw in his dream. They were from a place on the Mideel Continent. They hadn’t grown there in nearly 500 years but had suddenly started sprouting again. Excavations showed that most of them had burned in some sort of fire. It was a miracle that they were growing again. One even was sprouting fruit, even though it was horribly out of season. 

“Dumbapples,” Angeal said. His father patted him on the back, trailing his fingers through his grey hair. 

“Don’t be afraid,” he told Angeal, “It’s all already happened. It can’t hurt you.” 

Those dreams stopped after that. There were other similar ones, but none that affected him like that. Most of the rest just left him feeling guilt when he woke. 

He supposed that was why he spent most of his waking hours trying to do as much good as he could. He knew it was too late to fix it, but he could do better now. 

* * *

See poured a good third cup of creamer into his coffee before going after sugar and honey. Angeal took his black. It felt…scarily familiar. They sat across from each other in a corner, also somehow familiar.

“What’s your major?” Angeal asked. 

“Archaeology,” Sephiroth said, “with a lot anthropology thrown in.” He took a sip. “What about you?”

“Child Psychology,” Angeal said. Sef suddenly felt he would do well there. 

“Is this…the first time you felt something like this?” Sef asked. 

“When I was awake,” Angeal said, “I mostly see things when I dream. Mom said it was part of having geostigma as a kid.”

“I see flashes when I’m awake,” Sef said. It was the first time he had told someone…except for Vincent.

“I don’t envy you,” Angeal said, “I never see nice things.” Sef blew on his coffee. 

“I have seen you before,” Angeal said, “in a dream. I was not kind to you. I think I did something terrible to you.”

“I wouldn’t blame you,” Sef said, he’d never told Vincent this part, “Most of the things I see…are me doing terrible things.”

* * *

“It’s not what you see,” Vincent said, “that doesn’t matter. You can’t change it. It’s already happened, years and years ago. What matters is what you do now.

“I don’t know why this happened. Maybe geostigma was a punishment…maybe just some remnant of what you were. Perhaps the memories are of this planet punishing you, perhaps it’s your past self trying to come back. I cannot tell you that Sef. What I can tell you is that none of that matters at all. What matters is what you want to do with yourself this time.”

Lucretia smiles as she pulled an arm around Vincent as they looked at their son, at his confession. 

“I’m always gonna be proud of you,” Lucretia told him, “because I know I did it right this time.” And winked at him. 

* * *

Angeal blinked at Sef’s confession. He looked down at his own coffee.

“Did you feel like…you had to…like it was your only way out?” he asked. 

“Kind of,” Sef said, “I know objectively there were better ways, but in the moment…” Angeal nodded. 

“And you feel…kind of betrayed, like you’re getting even,” Angeal said. Sef swallowed and nodded again. 

“What do you feel about me?” Angeal asked. 

“I…I don’t know,” Sef admitted, “I…feel strange, and sad, and…happy.”

“I do too,” Angeal said, almost sagging in relief. 

“I feel like I abandoned you,” Angeal continued. 

“I feel like I drove you away,” Sef said. 

“I feel like I quit, like I wasn’t fair to you,” Angeal said. Sef got quiet. 

“I feel like…that big calamity legend…that meteor thing…was my fault,” Sef said. He had never said that aloud. Angeal blinked. 

“You win,” Angeal said, “that’s an awful thing to feel.” Sef starched at the back of his hand.

* * *

 

Sef looked at his parents and took a deep breath. 

“I want to be happy,” he said.

* * *

 

“But I also think,” Angeal started, “that…I’m different this time. If I am a reincarnation of someone. I don’t have to make their mistakes. I don’t have to do anything in my dreams. I’m a free man.”

“I don’t have to destroy the world,” Sef said with a weak smile, but Angeal laughed. 

“Exactly!” he said. 

“I asked you here…mostly on a whim,” Angeal said, “But…would you want to get dinner sometime?” Sef blinked. 

“I mean…you’re tall, you’re attractive, you being grey is an added bonus,” Angeal said, “You’re kinda my type…not because we might have done it in the past…but because I want to.” Sef did smile then. 

“I’m free tomorrow night,” he offered. Angeal smiled. They got up to leave exchanging numbers. 

“One more question,” Angeal asked, “Is Sef short for Sephiroth?” Sef blinked. 

“Yeah,” he said, “but it’s a mouthful so I don’t use it.” 

“I like it,” Angeal said, “It suited you then and now…but I like Sef better.” Sef cocked an eyebrow. 

“I think tomorrow night should be interesting, Angeal,” Sef said, “and not because it happened last time…or because I think it’s my fault it didn’t work.”

“I never thought it was,” Angeal said. 

Sef felt the power of those memories leave him for the first time he could remember. 

Maybe this time they should be happy. 


End file.
